His Name is Lewis - 1. His Name is Lewis

It was a Tuesday in February, and cold, and Stephen really, really needed a drink after the day he’d had. He loved kids, he really did. Besides having spent the last three years of his teens coaching a local junior football team and finding that he was really good at it, there was a reason he had chosen to become a teacher. He’d been woefully unprepared for the realities of teaching PE to secondary school students in this particular school district, however. In other words, his pupils were a bunch of little shits. Most of them, anyway.

Stephen had always been a good athlete, had even been approached by a recruiter for Arsenal at one point, but he’d never really had the motivation to go pro and anyway, homophobia was rampant in competitive sports, football in particular. It wasn’t a can of worms he was willing to open up.

He entered the pub, shaking the cold off. He came here a lot. They had good beer and decent food and served an excellent cup of coffee as well. All he wanted today was a pint of ale, though.

Stephen had been in here enough that he knew the bartender who usually worked this shift by name. Jessica was a large, no-nonsense woman in her late thirties sporting a watered down Glasgow accent, and just the sort of person Stephen was happy to converse with after a bad day. He queued up at the bar.

The person before him was very tall. Taller than Stephen, who was well above average height himself. The height suggested a man, but the person was willowy and wore clothes best described as gender-neutral, and with a thick ponytail of black dreadlocks it was hard to be sure from behind. Then they spoke in a deep, melodious baritone, however, and Stephen settled on his original assumption.

‘Cheers, Jess,’ said the man, picked up a large cup of coffee, and turned around. Stephen met his gaze for the briefest of seconds, dark eyes looking back at him. They were the exact opposite of his own, which were of such a light blue that they were almost grey. The man gave Stephen a half smile and said, ‘Excuse me,’ as he walked past.

He was by far the most gorgeous person Stephen had ever seen. He couldn’t help letting his gaze linger for a moment on the man’s retreating back, which ended in a rather magnificent looking arse, before turning to the bar.

‘Afternoon, Stephen,’ said Jessica. ‘What can I get you today?’

‘Pint of Timothy Taylor, please,’ said Stephen with a smile.

Jessica grimaced. ‘Fresh out, I’m afraid. Delivery tomorrow morning.’

Stephen sighed in disappointment. ‘Ah. Can’t be helped, I suppose. All right, I’ll have whatever ale you recommend, then, please.’

‘Coming right up.’ Jessica picked up a pint glass and got to pouring.

In the meantime, Stephen turned sideways, leaning his elbow on the counter. He glanced in the direction of the man, who had sat down at a table and pulled out a laptop. Stephen had a good view of his face. His features were fine, yet decidedly masculine. Angular jaw, arched eyebrows, full lips. He was older than Stephen, who was twenty-three, by a few years but definitely still in his twenties.

‘Here you are,’ said Jessica, placing Stephen’s pint in front of him. ‘Two pound sixty, please.’

‘Cheers.’ He pulled some coins out of his pocket to pay.

‘You’re quiet today,’ she observed.

‘Oh. Yeah. Long day. Work’s kicking my arse.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘Who’s that guy?’ he asked.

‘Who? Oh, him. His name’s Lewis. Comes in here in the daytime, almost every day. Sits on his laptop, I think he’s using this as his home office away from home.’ Jessica glanced at Stephen with an expression of mild amusement. ‘Why?’

Stephen shrugged. ‘Oh, no reason.’

She arched an eyebrow. ‘You don’t stare at a bloke for several minutes for no reason, do you?’

Jessica knew he was gay. So did most the regulars. Stephen had come in here with his ex several times and hadn’t exactly been subtle about it. Stephen had never been one for hiding his affections and was more than prepared to stand up to anyone who challenged him. They never did. His stature and athleticism made sure of that. Besides, despite the median age being somewhere around fifty on any given night, the regulars were a fairly laid back bunch.

James had not been enamoured with Stephen’s public displays of affection, however. The relationship had been doomed from the start.

Stephen gave Jessica a small smile. ‘Well, he’s stunning, isn’t he?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Jessica casually. ‘I prefer women.’

Stephen blinked. ‘Oh. How did I not know this?’

‘Because I’m a good bartender. I listen. I don’t go on about myself, do I?’ She wiped down the counter while Stephen took a sip. ‘Go on, then. Talk to him.’

Stephen shook his head. ‘You said he was working.’

‘He’s always working. He needs a break.’

Stephen seriously considered it. But then he shook his head. ‘Maybe some other time.’

Jessica shrugged. ‘Suit yourself, love.’

* * *

Stephen came in every afternoon that week, and every afternoon he saw Lewis at that same table with his laptop. He really wanted to talk to him but kept chickening out at the last minute, instead nursing his pint in silence, or chatting with Jessica over at the bar.

Friday afternoon, he was sitting at a table by the window, having ordered fish and chips as an end of the work week treat for himself, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a tall, dark figure approach his table. He looked up to find Lewis looking down at him, head cocked to one side.

‘Er, hey,’ said Stephen. He felt very awkward.

‘Hey,’ replied Lewis. ‘Mind if I join you?’

Stephen blinked. ‘Oh! No, not at all. Have a . . . have a seat.’

‘Thank you.’ Lewis sat down opposite him, studying his face for several long moments.

To break the silence, Stephen reached out across the table and said, ‘I’m Stephen.’

Lewis shook his hand. ‘Lewis. But I think you knew that.’ Stephen blushed, looking away. ‘Thought I’d come over and have a look at my stalker.’

‘It’s . . . it’s not like that! I’m sorry.’ Stephen’s face grew hotter by the second, and he bit his lip, unable to look at the gorgeous man in front of him.

Lewis laughed, a deep melodious sound that seemed to reverberate throughout Stephen’s entire body. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I don’t really mind. I mean, you’re quite fit.’ Stephen looked up at him again in surprise. An amused smile played over Lewis’s full lips. ‘Seems to me just sitting around staring at each other isn’t going to get us very far, though.’

Stephen returned his smile. He still felt embarrassed, but Lewis’s smile and his words made him feel a bit less pathetic. ‘Staring at each other’ implied that Lewis had looked at him as well. Oh well. He might as well get it over with. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. ‘Go out with me?’ he asked. It had sounded somewhat smoother in his head, and he felt himself blush again. Since when was he such a blusher?

Lewis laughed again. ‘You’re adorable. How’s tomorrow night sound?’

It had been a good long while since anyone had called Stephen adorable, and it wasn’t the answer he had been expecting. None of this was what he’d been expecting. But he found he liked it. ‘Dinner and a movie?’ he suggested. ‘Seems to be what all the cool kids are doing these days.’

‘Works for me.’

And that’s how Stephen ended up spending his Saturday night watching a mindless action film and then eating Vietnamese food with the most beautiful man he had ever met, let alone gone on a date with.

‘So what do you do, anyway?’ asked Lewis over his beef noodle pho.

‘I teach,’ said Stephen, swallowing a bite of spring roll. ‘High school PE.’

Lewis smiled. ‘As athletic as you look, then.’

Stephen cleared his throat, trying not to blush too much. ‘How about you? What do you do on your laptop all day?’

‘I’m a graphic designer. Freelance. A bit tough making ends meet at the moment, but I’m building up a decent portfolio and client list. And I’m doing what I love.’

‘That’s good. Everyone should get a chance at that.’

‘Do you love what you’re doing?’

Stephen found himself smiling. ‘Well, it’s hard work. Long days. Pay’s terrible. And I’ve got a lot of work I have to do outside work hours, too. And high schoolers, they’re a bunch of little shits, if you’ll pardon my language.’

‘Hm, just this once,’ said Lewis and Stephen laughed.

‘Sorry. But, yeah. I love it. In the end, they’re mostly good little sh—they’re good kids. Most of them. I care about them.’

Lewis smiled and looked down at his food, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks. ‘I like that in a man,’ he said softly, and Stephen blushed again. Lewis seemed to have that effect on him. Making him shy and giddy as a schoolboy. ‘How long have you been teaching?’ Lewis asked after a few more bites.

‘Actually just started last term,’ said Stephen. ‘Finished uni spring before last, took a year working with special needs kids before this job opened up.’

‘Special needs, huh? I like you more and more.’ Lewis’s smile turned more flirtatious. Clearly, nurturing men were a turn-on for him. Stephen made a mental note of that. ‘Wait, so how old are you?’

‘Twenty-three,’ said Stephen. ‘Twenty-four in April. How about you?’

‘Twenty-eight. Bit of an age difference.’

Stephen shrugged. ‘I couldn’t give less of a—I mean, I don’t care if you don’t.’

‘I don’t,’ said Lewis simply. ‘What’s five years, really? When you’re forty I’ll be forty-five. Won’t seem like anything then.’

‘So, you think we’ll still know each other then?’

It was Lewis’s turn to look a bit shy. ‘I certainly hope so.’

After they’d eaten, they walked together. They lived in the same general direction. Fifteen minutes to Lewis’s place, another ten for Stephen to get home. It was chilly, but they had both wrapped up warm, so the weather didn’t bother them. They chatted about the film, and the food, and their jobs. Stephen told Lewis about coaching junior football. Lewis told Stephen about studying art.

‘I dabble a bit in painting. I’m not very good, but it’s fun.’

‘I’ll bet you’re great,’ said Stephen. He smiled. ‘You know, I never thought you’d actually come talk to me. I . . . wanted to talk to you, but I was too nervous.’

Lewis shrugged. ‘I’ve wasted too much time on being nervous. Spent my teenage years lying to myself about who I was and what I wanted. So now, if I want something, I go for it.’

Want. The word made Stephen’s heart race. What did Lewis want? Stephen knew what he himself wanted. At that moment, he really wanted to kiss Lewis. He’d wanted to kiss him ever since he first saw those full, far-too-kissable lips of his. He licked his lips and looked around. The street was practically deserted, despite it being a Saturday. Those who were going out were already at their destinations and weren’t going home for a while yet. Stephen stopped, and Lewis did too.

‘Lewis?’

‘Mhm?’

‘Is it all right if I . . . ?’

‘What?’

Stephen took a step closer, and Lewis turned to face him fully. Stephen licked his lips again. Why was he so nervous?

Lewis smiled, closed the distance between them, and kissed Stephen on the lips. Open mouthed, but chaste, no tongue. Stephen kissed him back, slipped his arms around his waist. Lewis’s lips were soft, and he tasted spicy. Stephen took a deep breath, tried to prevent himself from making the needy sound he knew was on the way. He failed, and uttered a soft, ‘Mmh . . .’ He felt Lewis’s smile widen against his lips, and then there was tongue.

They both came away breathing quite a bit more heavily than they had been. Lewis was still smiling. Stephen loved that smile and mirrored it. Lewis took his hand and they walked on in silence. Looking down at their joined hands, Stephen noted the contrast between Lewis’s dark skin and his own fair complexion. Like yin and yang, he thought. They complemented each other.

When they reached Lewis’s place, a row of semi-detached houses turned flats, they kissed again.

‘Fuck,’ Stephen breathed as he came away, on pure instinct, because kissing Lewis was so wonderful he had no other words to describe it.

‘Language,’ said Lewis reproachfully, but there was a glint of amusement in his eye.

Stephen uttered a breathless laugh. ‘Sorry. I just . . . don’t know how to . . .’ He pulled Lewis closer into a hug and rested his forehead on his shoulder. ‘I really like you,’ he murmured, once again feeling like a schoolboy.

Lewis hugged him back, arms surprisingly strong for such a lean and willowy man. ‘Yeah. I really like you too. Enough to get past that filthy mouth of yours.’ He paused. ‘That came out really, really wrong, didn’t it?’

Stephen laughed again, pulling back far enough to look up into Lewis’s far too gorgeous face. ‘A bit,’ he agreed. ‘Not sure you can go round reproaching me for my language when you say things like that.’ He smirked. Lewis looked mildly embarrassed. ‘I’ll try,’ said Stephen. ‘Long as you promise to forgive me when I inevitably fuck up.’

Lewis laughed and rolled his eyes. ‘You did that one on purpose.’

‘You bet your gorgeous arse I did,’ said Stephen, his smirk widening. Lewis sighed and bit his lip, clearly torn between disapproval of the profanity and gratitude for the compliment. Stephen took it as a win and gave him a soft little kiss. ‘I’d love to do this again. Think you’d be up for it?’

‘Definitely,’ said Lewis. ‘I really want to get to know you better, Stephen. Like what I’ve seen so far. A lot.’

‘Likewise.’ Stephen wet his lips with his tongue. ‘Friday?’

‘Friday,’ Lewis agreed. He kissed Stephen one more time and then stepped back. ‘I’ll see you then.’

Stephen couldn’t help saying, ‘Think you’ll invite me in then?’

Lewis chuckled. ‘Play your cards right.’

Stephen couldn’t let him go without one final kiss, and then he sighed and said, ‘All right. I’ll see you Friday. Or, you know, maybe ’round the pub some day?’

‘Very likely,’ said Lewis. ‘Goodnight, Stephen.’

‘Goodnight, Lewis.’ Stephen watched him enter the house, and as soon as he was gone, broke into the goofiest grin he’d worn since he was sixteen and Barnaby Winters had snogged him silly behind the bike shed at school. Hands in his coat pockets, he turned around and set off home. Only one date and Stephen was pretty sure he was falling seriously in love with this man. He was beyond okay with that.